


...On Little Cat Feet

by S J Smith (Evil_Little_Dog)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/S%20J%20Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Faith finds a kitten.<br/>Disclaimer:  Joss owns everything.  I just play paperdolls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...On Little Cat Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/gifts).



Faith slung back her hair, doing a three-sixty to make sure there weren’t any more demons left in the trash-ridden alley. The only thing moving was Connor, finishing off some big horned thing. Faith couldn’t remember Wes mentioning a big horned thing but one less demon in the world couldn’t be bad, could it?

Connor remained bent over in an unnatural position for a few seconds longer and Faith was about to shout at him when he reached his hand out to something she couldn’t see – then jerked it back just as rapidly. “Ow!” he yelped.

“What now?” Faith asked, moving around her lover and the body he straddled.

Nursing his hand against his chest, Connor tossed his head, his face screwed up in a scowl. “There’s a little demon back there,” he said.

“Little?” Faith cocked an eyebrow at that one. The only little demon she knew anything about was that mini-fear demon that B and her Scoobs ran into that one Halloween. Willow had told the story over Buttershots during the last Girl’s Night. Hey, it was almost as much fun as the time they’d talked about the worst break-up lines. B’s cookie dough speech won, hands down. “I don’t think demons come in ‘little’.”

A miniature growl rumbled out from the garbage around their feet and Faith rolled her eyes. “Connor,” she said, squatting down, “it’s a kitten.”

“A what?”

“A kitten.” She shoved the hair back over her shoulders and wriggled her fingers. “Here puss, puss. Aww, you’re scared, aren’t you? Did the big, bad son of vampires scare you?”

“Hey!” Connor whined and Faith grinned at him over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the little blob of fur backing further into some packing crates that their fight had turned into a spectacular pile of rubble. “Baby, don’t go,” Faith said to it, her fingers reaching into the crevasse.

“Careful,” Connor said, as the pile groaned. “I fell on that junk earlier. It may not be too sturdy.”

“Damn it,” Faith muttered, “I can’t quite reach him.”

“Let me try,” Connor said, squatting next to her.

“Your arms aren’t any longer than mine,” Faith said but moved out of his way. Let the man try; then when he failed, she’d have a chance to say ‘I told you so’. “Hey, this reminds me of the time your dad rescued a puppy.”

“A what?” Connor’s voice was muffled. He was practically laying down on the street in his attempt to catch the kitten.

“A puppy. You know, a little dog? God, Junior, we need to take you to a petting zoo or something. You have no clue what animals are what, do you?”

He didn’t answer, his tongue clamped between his teeth as he reached deeper into the mound of trash. Faith could hear the kitten spitting and hissing and then a long yowl. Connor smiled, one of those freaky, jack o’ lantern smiles of his and dragged the kitten out of the trash by its tail. “Got it!” he said, triumphantly.

Almost as soon as it appeared, the kitten flipped itself on its back and wrapped all four sets of claws around Connor’s hand, not to mention biting down at the same time. Connor yelled in surprise, letting go of the kitten. It scrambled back into the trash before he could grab it. “Damn it, are you sure it isn’t a demon?” he asked.

“It’s a cat,” Faith said, managing to grab his swinging hand to take a look at it. “These aren’t too bad – look, you’re already healing.” She shoved his hand back at him. “Stop being a big baby.”

“It hurts,” Connor whined.

“This from someone who heals in five seconds.” Faith bent down again, peering into the crevasse. She couldn’t even see the kitten in there. “Damn. I hate leaving him here alone.”

“I think it can protect itself,” Connor muttered.

“He’s just a baby,” Faith said but ended it with a sigh.

Connor touched her arm lightly. “We still need to tell Wes about the horned demon,” he said. He turned his attention to his kill, smiling proudly. Reaching down, he grabbed the horns and twisted.

Faith winced at the horrible sound, somewhere between cracking and schlooping. The smell was unbelievable, rising even above the typical alley funk and she waved a hand in front of her face rapidly. “Phew! That stinks!”

Connor turned around quickly, watching something like fog, sprinkled with diamonds, drifting around him for a second. It spread out, past the demon, carpeting the alley then disappearing almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Huh,” he said, hefting one of the horns. “That was weird.”

“Tell me about it.” Faith made a face at the gore-slicked horns. “I’m not helping you carry those.”

He shrugged, starting for the mouth of the alley. “They aren’t heavy.”

“Yeah but they stink.” Faith picked her way over the demon bodies. She got off on the fighting but she really hated the goo that came with slaying things other than vamps. And the smells! She knew she’d be in the shower for a wee—

“Ahh!”

“Faith?” Connor wheeled around, the horns falling from his hands, already in attack mode.

“Calm down, Junior,” she said, looking down at her foot and the kitten attached to it. “Someone wants to play.”

Willow was right, that sneer was all Angel. “Well, you wanted it to come out,” Connor said, picking up his trophies.

“Aww, who’s the cute puss?” Faith asked as the kitten rubbed itself all over her Doc Martens. It rolled its head back, opening its mouth and squeaked in answer. “Don’t you even know how to meow?” She squatted down, offering the kitten her hand. It butted up against her fingers, its purr practically bigger than it was. “What a flirt,” she said admiringly, scooping the tiny thing up in one hand. The kitten meeped back and stetched its head up, bonking itself under her chin.

Connor sighed impatiently.

“What?” Faith asked, rising up, the kitten cuddled in her arms. “Isn’t it cute?”

“Adorable.”

Okay, so Junior could sound like Angel, too. Faith just smiled. “Hey, we saved a life,” she told him as she skipped out of the alleyway. “Trust me, that ratty hotel could use a cat.” She snuggled the kitten up to her cheek. “Couldn’t it, baby?” The kitten chirped in reply. “Aww.” She plucked it off her chest and held it up in the relative brightness of the street. Its coat seemed to sparkle for a second, as if diamonds were woven in the strands of fur. Faith shook her head and hugged it again. “We’ll have to think of a good name for you. Yes, we will.” Beside her, Connor sighed heavily.

And the kitten turned its diamond-brilliant eyes to its horns and began plotting its revenge.


	2. Scary Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz, Xander, Giles and Angel encounter a monster.

Home territory and all, Xander thought, should be safe, right? Right?

The monster growled again, its jewel-tone eyes narrowing.

“You’re a werewolf. Can’t you, you know, chase it or something?” he asked, elbowing the man beside him.

Oz shrugged. “I think it’s immune to werewolves.”

It hissed and slashed the air with razor-sharp claws. Both men winced, Xander wondering if he could possibly hide behind Angel. He was big, after all, broad shoulders and not that he was looking but a nice specimen of manhood. More than wide enough to hide a Xander behind.

“What I’d like to know,” Giles said, his voice just a little tight, “is how it got into the hotel.”

“Faith,” Angel said, his voice a growl, “she brought it here.”

“Whatever for?” Giles risked taking his eyes off the creature for an instant. Its howl made him jerk back around to face it again.

“Probably thought it was cute,” Oz said. The others stared at him. “What? It might be cute, if it weren’t all fangs and claws.”

“And bushy tail,” Xander said, smiling sickly. “Angel, you’re big. You get it.”

“Uh, uh,” Angel said, holding up his hand for inspection. “I’m still trying to heal from the last attack.”

The beast hissed when Xander tried to edge past the desk and he subsided. “We can’t just stay here all day.” Arching its back, yowls came from its wide mouth. “Okay, I vote we stay here all day.”

“I’m sure there’re papers I need to work on in the office,” Angel said, gesturing behind them.

“Certainly,” Giles said, “and there are books which could be studied to remedy our current predicament.”

“Guys, it’s a kitten,” Oz said and reached out for it.

“No, don’t,” Xander half-shouted and Oz jerked his hand back, the scratches welling up immediately. “Told you.” He then looked at Angel. “And don’t you be getting any bright ideas.”

“Werewolf blood tastes awful.” He grimaced. “Sorry, Oz.”

“No problem. That’s good to know.” Oz accepted the handkerchief from Giles and wiped at the blood. “We still need a plan to get out of here.”

“We could throw a jacket over it,” Giles said, eyeing Angel.

“Oh, no. Not my jacket,” Angel protested.

“You got any better suggestions, Deadboy?” Xander asked.

“Well,” Angel said.

“Give us your bloody jacket,” Giles snapped, grabbing for Angel’s collar.

“Did you just say ‘bloody’?” Xander asked, completely shocked.

The kitten wailed again and everyone froze, their eyes all slowly going to it as it crept even closer along the counter. “We’re all gonna die,” Xander said, “well, except for Angel. Vampire and all.”

“Do shut up,” Giles muttered through clenched teeth, still wrestling with Angel over possession of the jacket.

“Guys,” Oz said, watching as the kitten started prowling closer, something akin to bloodlust in its eyes. “Guys?” It crouched down, hindquarters wriggling in the air, with what Oz would swear was unholy glee written on its little black face. “Guys!”

The entreaty focused their attention on the threat at hand. Xander just knew that the kitten was smiling at them. Its tail wagging, growl rumbling from its throat, the kitten’s muscles tightened. Xander closed his eyes and ducked reflexively, expecting to feel claws and teeth cutting through his flesh.

“What are you doing?”

There wasn’t any pain. Xander slit an eye open; peering under the elbow he’d flung up to protect his face. There wasn’t any evil kitty anymore either, just a cute little puffy thing, squirming on its back on top of the check in counter. “Uh,” he said as Buffy and Faith, followed by Fred, crossed the hotel floor. “Kitten!” He stabbed his finger at its innocent charade.

“Poor little guy,” Faith said, picking up the kitten and cuddling it to her face. “Did the nasty men and vampire scawe oo?”

Now that was just wrong. Faith doing the baby talk thing with a ravening beast? “Careful, Faith,” he warned.

“Careful? Are you outta your nut, Xander?” She rolled her eyes. “All of you?”

“Yeah, don’t tell me you big guys were scared of a teensy little kitten.” Fred twisted a strand of her hair into a little puff and began tickling the kitten’s nose. The kitten grabbed for her hair eagerly. “You’re just the cutest thing!”

“Well?” Buffy asked, her arms folded and an amused expression on her face.

“Well,” Angel said, pulling his coat free from Giles’ hands and smoothing it back in place, “I’ve got a lot of work to do.” He disappeared into the office behind him and slid the door shut.

“And I,” Giles said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, “must go attend to,” his voice trailed off as he all but scuttled away.

“Yeah, what they said,” Xander said, with a sickly grin. He disappeared after Giles.

“What about you?” Buffy asked Oz.

He waved his wounded hand at her. “I’ve got a date with some hydrogen peroxide.” He started off then stopped, turning to face the women and the kitten. “You know, it’s probably a good thing I’m already a werewolf.”

They stared at him as he walked off, the kitten purring loudly in Faith’s arms. “What was that supposed to mean?” Fred asked.

“Men,” Faith said. “Who really understands them?” She nuzzled the kitten’s black fur. “Not me. Not you either, right, dumplin’?”

The kitten arched his back and rumbled his agreement, bonking its head on Faith’s chin as it marked the trails of the four men. They could pose a problem. The kitten would have to deal with them.

Soon.


End file.
